


Deadlights

by the_queen_of_cringe



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Angst and Romance, Blood and Gore, Dominance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Slow Build, Ye have been warned, this fic is SLOW MOVING, yes i use his real name later on in the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 15:11:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12656019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_queen_of_cringe/pseuds/the_queen_of_cringe
Summary: It had endured centuries on earth, indulging selfishly in Its desires, never once blinking at Its monstrous ways. Your arrival into Its existence warped the both of you into an emotional chaos of white-hot lust and desire, throwing the both of you into never a ending poignant rollarcoaster of longing and unattainable sensual tranquility.The clock was ticking. It couldn't bring Itself to leave you, yet It couldn't bring Itself to stay either. It hated this love, It hated this lust, It hated this desire, and most of all, It hated that It didn't hate you.





	1. A Bloody Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Critique is welcomed. This is the first fic I've written in ages. Apologize for any typos or grammar mistakes, I swear I proofread this three hundred times. Typos will be the death of me. I tried. The first two chapters are mostly introduction, but there will be plenty of action by the third chapter. Please let me know if you enjoy this fic, otherwise I probably won't continue this due to lack of time and inspiration. Don't want to give away spoilers but I do have an outline of where I want to go with this. Enjoy!

The first time It had tasted you was where it began. It had sunk Its teeth into your skin, every intention of getting a quick, juicy meal out of your body. Its eyes rolled to the back of Its head, the endless row of gums and fangs spilling out from Its deformed excuse for a mouth, becoming more monstrous by the second. Your ears were ringing rapidly in your head and you were convinced your heart would burst from fear sooner than you would die from this grotesque being; the organ pounded against your chest like it was a cage, a desperate animal fleeting to escape, your breathing impossibly quick. It had you cornered, there was nowhere to run, and even if there was, the monster had made it clear that It was more than capable of using Its strength to stop you. 

You knew one thing on this night; you were sure you were going to die.

Its teeth finally pierced your skin, breaking the choking anticipation, and you let out a wail of agony, begging for any relief from the inhuman fear and pain you were enduring. The monster’s teeth only sunk further into your skin in response, and It bite out a hunk of your shoulder, chewing and savouring Its new tasty snack, Its eyes in separate directions, blood, droll and fangs pouring out of Its mouth.

You let out whimper after whimper. You tried to form words, a cry for help, a bargain, even just a “please”, but your lungs were so entrapped by your deep fear that you found it impossible to even breathe, let alone form words, you were sure you were going to suffocate, if the monster didn’t kill you first.

And then, It spoke.

“Mhm...little frightened girl. Tasty, tasty little pathetic girl. Your flavor is quite delicious.” It let out a cackle, blood and drool pouring out from Its fat red lips, Its fangs deteriorating only slightly as It relaxed while chewing your torn off flesh. Your lips tried to form words, but your numb, busted and bloody lips only touched one another uselessly, trembling uncontrollably.

“What’s Pennywise to do with...Heuueueu...such a good girl? You’re so well behaved, I almost feel sorry for eating you.”

It was clearly was not sorry, mocking you, playing with you and your fear. It was relishing in every moment of it, jeering at your whimpers and razing Its sharp teeth against your cheek teasingly, pretending It was about to chomp down on you, breaking a little skin, licking off the oozing blood, only to pull away and mimic your expression of fear and anticipation.

“Ohahaha, so sad! The poor pathetic girl, save her!” Its voice cracked on the last words, making it even more shrilled and high pitched than it already was. It giggled manically and copied your wails and expression, making you cry even harder.

The monster leaned forward yet again and breathed deep into your neck, then opened them, Its golden irises full of animalistic hunger and desire, Its face in a haze.

“You taste so...delicious. Your fear is overwhelming. Heuueu! It’s so tasty! Good, good girl!” It let out a disturbing high pitched cackle, Its laugh shrieking, one that sounded more like choking than a laugh.

“L-let me go, please,” you pleaded desperately, your voice weak and completely broken, but relieved to finally have words come out, though you were choking on your own spit and blood, as well as the panic that welled up inside of you. “I’ll do anything. Please…”

“Please!” It shrieked giddily. “The little creature said please!” It let out an insane cackle, blood spilling out from Its fangs, and there was so much that you couldn’t tell if it was yours or “leftovers” from some other unfortunate victim that It had consumed before you, or some horrible hallucination as a side effect of your fear. There was no way it could all be yours, you thought, you would be dead already if it was.

“Pennywise is awfully hungry tonight, little girl. You would make quite a delicious, tasty quick meal. Ohahahahah!” It let out Its apparently signature shriek of a laugh, then a beastly growl, both in triumph and contempt, and you couldn’t help but let out a blood curdling scream. It quickly silenced you by slamming a bloody gloved hand over your mouth, snarling in your face.

“Don’t do that, silly girl. We don’t want to end this little game of ours now, do we? Heuhaha!” This time Its laugh was more of a crazed, suppressed giggle, Its incredibly large, ecstatic grin almost resembling an unusually energetic child with an absurd amount of malice. Your muffled whimpers were barely audible even to you as they were suppressed by the large hand. You found it ironic that the creature didn’t want you to be loud, yet was letting out the most shirked, high pitched cackles Itself. This creature in front of you most certainly reminded you of a sadistic child, you decided in your hazed mind, careless and naive, impulsive without a second thought, relying on senses and current desires rather than thinking things through, full of more energy and curiosity than It knew what to do with, taking out its malicious energy, almost twisted innocence and fiery energy on whatever It found with a heartbeat.

It licked the marks on your skin again, Its ragged breathing letting out samples of Its raspy voice, clearly filled with spiteful, malevolent glee, and something else, something much more rich, more warm, more thirsty than any other emotion that you could currently apply to your desperate situation through your panicked mind. It took Its sweet time licking the remaining running blood off your face, you shaking with incredible dread all the while, your eyes half closed, blinking open and then closed, open and closed, not being able to decide if the trauma of your current situation would be better seen or shut out.

It leaned its appalling, dripping fangs towards the middle of your neck and buried Its lips on one of your protruding veins, and you began to mentally prepare yourself for yet more of the unbearable pain that would follow when the bulging sharp teeth would sink into them. 

But it never came.

Instead It became to smell you, deeply, as if taking in taking in every scent that had radiated off of you in your life, and, for all the knew, maybe It was. You didn’t know who It was, what It was, what It was capable of, if It was even human, though the blood, droll and fangs you could see that It vaguely resembled a person dressed as a clown. It pressed Its plump lips against the middle of your neck, and then did the most unexpected thing; It gave a small peck. You were too horrified to react; a circus could have rolled right in front of you and you wouldn’t have processed it. You were simply an empty shell of a person, anticipating more pain, waiting for your death.

The monster lifted Its face from the crevice of your neck and stared into your eyes. Though the animalistic hunger was still within them, Its expression had completely changed since It had shoved Its head into your neck; instead of the twisted, cackling, insane and toothy creature that had been in front of you only a few moments before, Its face now appeared solemn, fascinated, surprised, calm, curious. Its fangs had dissipated into a regular row of smaller ones, and they no longer poured out of Its mouth; they simply hung as a normal row of small, sharp fangs, and you could only see the tips of them leaking out of Its large red lips. It gazed into your eyes for a few moments longer, Its golden orbs more aligned with one another now, slightly more human looking. You found yourself gazing back into them, finding yourself fascinated and curious with them despite yourself, temporarily forgetting even the burning of your cuts and bruises, seeing another universe within them, holding countless lives, centuries, souls captured in them, amongst innumerable other aspects that were barely comprehensible to your mind. Without you even consciously realizing it, there was a moment of quiet between you two, of absolute stillness and taking in one another, nothing to be heard but the almost inaudible sound of the brown dead leaves rustling against each other through the autumn breeze. 

Then the sound of a can being kicked was heard in the distance, and you both were locked out of your trance, gone without a trace in a flash, as if it had never happened.The monster growled, showing its fangs yet again, but this time not at you. It whipped Its head to where the sound had been heard, and before you knew it, It was gone. 

You continued to sit there, trembling, unable to function for a long while before you even attempted to help yourself, every part of your being quivering uncontrollably, even down to your lips, both upper and lower thumping against one another endlessly. The shock of what had happened to you keeping you frozen in place, rendering every function of your body useless. It wasn’t until almost dawn, with the sun peeking out over the hilltops, that you were finally able to get your weak and damaged legs to support your weight. You slowly began to make your way back home, processing nothing, trauma encompassing every part of your mind.

It had taken you weeks to recover physically from what you had been through. Mentally, you never did. You had come home from your walk through the town that night limping, your skin covered in wounds, bruised and impossibly fragile. You could hardly walk straight when you entered your house, your vision blurry, almost blacking out. Your mother had heard your body crashing through the house and had immediately come rushing down, shock and worry on her face. You gave up on trying to help yourself and leaned against the nearest wall, your back leaving a blood trail on the wall and your body crashing to the floor. Your vision began to black out as soon as you hit the floor, and for that moment you knew no more.

You woke up in a hospital, disoriented and fuzzy headed. You looked around you and a nurse was by your side, sitting in a chair, jotting down notes to herself. You said nothing for at least the duration of ten minutes, simply staring ahead of you, fuzzy headed from the medication they gaze you and unable to process much of anything. The nurse then stood up, preparing to leave, but not before glancing at you. She gave a small jump of surprise when she saw your eyes were open, staring into nothing.

“Oh! You’re awake. Let me go get your parents. They went out to eat for lunch. They’ve been here since last night.”

You said nothing, too weak and feeble to respond or to care about anything at the moment.

The rest of the next few days went by rather unimpressively, save for having to account to your parents what happened. You ended up telling them that you were walking down the town of Derry (true), ended up walking down a dark alleyway in the hopes that it would be a shortcut (true), only to find yourself at the merciless hands of a robber, who beat you up and stole whatever money you had in your purse (false).

You had wanted to tell either of them about the monster, desperately, but you felt deep within you that it was the wrong choice. You weren’t sure why this feeling was there, but at the end of the day you reasoned with yourself that it wasn’t a good idea anyway; more than likely you would end up in therapy and be considered to have mental health issues for more than a few months, and would gain the reputation of being the cooky “off girl” of Derry, none of which interested you. 

So, for weeks, you kept it all to yourself. The fear never left you; it was always with you, as if some weight that had the essence of fear within it was chained to your ankle, always weighing you down, always forcing you to carry it with you wherever you went. You never felt safe or truly alone; you felt like you were always on the brink of danger, or that some burning, ill-meaning eyes were glaring at you from afar. You kept the trauma to yourself, the hurt to yourself, the blood and the absolutely immobilizing fear of dying that seemed to never truly leave you even now that you were safe, especially in your dreams; the nightmares you had started to endure during the night had begun to be the norm for you, with the anxiety of facing them welling up inside of you before you slept every night, if it could ever be considered sleep; rather it felt like a waking nightmare, filled with fangs the size of skyscrapers dripping with blood chasing you through choking darkness, never quite catching you, but always being close enough to graze the back of your exhausted, bruised ridden legs, terror and vast abandonment being all you felt in these dreams. You woke from them with bags under your bloodshot eyes, somehow feeling more exhausted than the night before you went to sleep. 

And there was one thing that you kept to yourself even from yourself; the undeniable lust and allure you had felt for the monster by the end of the interaction. 

You spent your days in a haze, speaking to family, friends and professors but never listening to them, or even yourself, your words empty vessels that spilled out of your mouth solely for show, the insides of you rotting with an ironic combination of trauma and curiosity all the while. Despite your attempts to recover, at least on the outside, your gradually dropping eyes and greying skin started to give away your struggle to recover and fit in, as well as your hopes that the “robbing” story (which had been received from those who knew you without any questioning) would be left in the past. People began to question you, and you heard their whispers behind your back and the way they stared when you made your way through the halls and at family gatherings. You hated being pampered, and you had never gotten more of it when people had heard of the tragic “robbing” story. Most of the attention had dissipated some time ago, but your gradually decaying state was drawing the attention back again. People you knew began to look at you with a concerned look when they thought you weren’t looking, but you pretended not to notice, trying your best to get through the day as if everything was normal.

And then, one day, you couldn’t hold it back anymore. The curiosity was burning inside of you, ebbing away at you. You needed answers, needed to know why you felt so drawn and compelled by this monstrous force. And, along with this burning curiosity, you felt something tugging at you, egging you, urging you to wander to the sewers. 

So, you did just that; you wandered to the sewers.

You were a combination of fascinated and disgusted as you made your way past the river and into the stinking, dirty grey water of the sewers. As you made your way deeper into them, the water become increasingly murkier and more filthy, and, to your, horror, you began to notice floating pieces of body parts that looked almost human floating within the depths. You dared to look more intensely, moving your face closer to take a look at one of the floating pieces, daring to check to see if your observation was correct. As you looked closer, you began to make out what seemed like rotten, slippery flesh, a decaying nail, the ripped and damaged tendons of what used to be a healthy finger bone underneath the decaying skin.

You let out a scream of horror that echoed throughout the sewers, an alarm that would surely notice any being that dwelled there that you were there.

***

The creature had sat by Itself by Its endless pile of dirty toys, gnawing on an arm of a human like a dog, drool and slobber pouring out of Its mouth and dripping from Its fangs. Sharp edges of the toys of Its collection ebbed at his side. With a growl and a tear of force from Its jaw It bite harder into Its meal, Its anger and annoyance only increasing as the afternoon went on. Something had been throwing It off, something had disturbed the consistent mence and selfishness that usually took place at the core of Its naturally animalistic esque essence. It had been able to ignore it at first, to pretend like it may have been something It had consumed recently. But as the weeks dragged on, so did Its increasing discomfort at this change within It. The change certainly didn’t belong in Its essence; this much It knew. The sensation felt too earthly, too modest, too...human. The monster snarled at even the mention of the word, the mere concept of feeling a human emotion disgusting It beyond belief. Its vextation with this new element inside of It only brought on more irritation the longer it went on and dwelled inside of It, and It had been taken it out on Its prey, both the fresh and the rotten, tearing Its countless fangs into any unfortunate breathing, living thing that crossed Its path, ripping out the insides and spattering them across the area, letting out Its rage on organs and at the tendons as It ripped them apart and sunk in Its teeth and claws, the piece of shredded flesh being pounded into the dirt as It feed Itself like a crazed animal.

It has been sitting by Its tower of filthy toys, glaring at nothing, Its eyes in separate directions, munching harshly on the meat in Its mouth and between Its fangs, drool continuing to spill out from Its mouth, a pool of it starting to form on the ground. It allowed Itself to fester in Its toxic, negative fume of emotions, letting it consume Its presence.

Then, It heard you scream. Its head snapped up from the arm It was mauling, the skin slippery, rotten and wet as it slipped from the cracks of Its fangs, eyes clouded over and inhuman. If one had saw It right now, they would have thought of It more of as a pale animal than resembling anything even close to human. Slowly, It creeped up, and sniffed the air heavily.

It smelt it; fear. Deep, oozing, rich and delicious fear. It closed Its eyes for a moment, savouring the richness of it, letting the flavour ooze onto the surface of Its tongue, the taste irresistible. Then, It let out a small, insane giggle, which only began to become more loud as it began to echo around Its lair, until Its laughter echoed through the whole of the sewers, almost as if it was a response to the scream.

“Aha-ohahhaha! A curious visitor is coming to have a good time, are we?” 

***

You froze still and you heard the echoing of the laughter within the sewers, the pure menace held within it chilling you to your core, and your bones instantly immobilized, too petrified with fear to even attempt to move any further. All the trauma that you had been trying so hard to forget suddenly came crashing back at you, almost knocking you over and rendering you breathless. You could have sworn you were going to throw up just then; your lungs were burning with the sensation of terror, your hands and the lower half of your body completely numb , your panic beyond the point of shaking. You tried to fight the burst of panic of that began to build up inside of you, making you forget how to breath, enclosing your lungs and rendering you unable to help yourself, but it was too late; your body had already registered the danger and had begun to shut down, using it’s ironic way of protecting itself by no longer trying to defend itself at all.

You managed to lean your hand against the walls of the sewer, feeling the filth graze against the skin of your hand. Your entire body was shaking uncontrollably, and you began to inwardly curse at yourself for thinking this was even a remotely good idea. Chase after the monster who tried to eat your flesh? Try and a reason with a clearly unstable, more than likely inhuman psychopath who had only wanted to eat you because of two seconds of possible interest and heat? You wanted to strangle yourself just then.

Lost in your thoughts and occupied with trying to fight off a full blown panic attack, you barely noticed the sudden ominous and menacing presence that appeared behind you. You tried to react, but found you couldn’t move; your body was utterly frozen in place, submitting you completely at the mercy of what was behind you. You felt the sensation of drool oozing onto your shoulder and down your back, your body shivered in response, a natural reaction to the sensation of a chilly, slimy liquid running down your back, but there was also your fear, something you couldn’t control, something that you had already begun to realize fed the monster, encouraged it. You heard a deep and heavy breathing, and after a few seconds you realized It was smelling you; taking in your scent, your being, your presence. Heavy, deep breaths were being taken, Its hot breath radiating onto your neck. You swallowed, not even conscious of anything other than the tension that was growing thicker and thicker between you and It.

Then, the creature growled, a low, rusty, and deep sound in It’s throat. It sounded aggressive, and yet curious, almost as if It was making the sound to confirm you were there. You let out a small yelp of fright, and It laughed in Its rough, ragged cackle in response. Too horrified to even attempt to look behind you, you simply took to continuing to stare into the distance of the sewers, staring at nothing except for the endless black circle that the filthy walls of the sewer created, looking like a void of nothingness that would never end.

Then, It put it hands on you.

You were surprised by how strong and firm the hands were, how large and stable they were, how human they felt. And yet, there was some otherworldly energy radiating underneath the fabric, skin and bone of those hands, and it pounded against the surface, almost as if a spirit was trapped there that was begging to get out, not meant to be contained by the tight proximity of a physical body, or even of the world. Your body shaking, the hands, with great force, turned you around, forcing you to look at the figure that was instilling such great fear in you. What you saw was what you knew all along; it was the creature, the monster that had almost killed you less than a month ago. It had a wide, insane and toothy smile across its face, its buck teeth spilling out of its teeth, the saliva dripping out of Its mouth and spilling onto the floor where your shoulder was a moment ago. Its eyes were both facing separate directions, making it look like It wasn’t truly looking at you, and yet you knew It was; something about those eyes were piercing you, and you felt It was taking in every part of who and what you were, leaving you exposed, naked, like prey waiting to be eaten. It let out an insane, gleeful giggle, like the squeak of a lonely child who had finally found someone to play with, or like the one of an insane man who had been locked up for too long. You noticed the white make-up at the top of Its head was cracked; the further up Its head it was the more it looked like it would break apart any minute, and yet, as you studied closer, you realized there was no blood or skin underneath those cracks, just dark emptiness, blacker than night, spacious and never ending, as if the entirely of space itself was kept underneath those cracks. You sensed that somehow the top of Its forehead exposed the slightest truth of who It was; almost as if, whatever It was underneath that clown suit, that body, was fighting at the seams of the physical form to get out, as if every pore of who It was was strewn together like a poorly made doll, a sad attempt at passing for human.

Truthfully, It didn’t know who you were, or what you were doing here, or why you had come back. It was frustrated with your scent and questions were pounding in Its head; why had you come here, to the center of Its earthly residence? What did you seek? Your fear was radiating off of you, leaking into Its senses like a full prepared meal, and the droll was pouring from Its lips, begging It to eat you, yes, please, eat her, eat the prey that smells so richly ravishing that it’s almost sickening, she reeks of terror, eat her, eat her!

And yet, underneath the reeking aroma of stench that was pouring from your body, It sensed something else, a rich emotion that It hadn’t felt in ages, that you pulled out of It. Something that It was familiar with; It had felt it before, the feeling that had been the very thing that had lead It to here on earth, but this time it was richer, more desirable, more real, somehow, and the sensation came to It stronger than even the desire to consume your flesh.

Lust.

Letting out a deep rumble in Its throat, with Its hands against your hips It pulled you closer, until you were both touching nose to nose, and you stood there, mortified, as It breathed in your scent, deep. You didn’t dare flinch or make a noise; you were somehow convinced that if you did, the creature would snap out of Its trance and pounce on you, giving into its more animalistic nature and tearing into your flesh with Its vicious fangs. You felt like you were walking a circus rope, and one wrong move would send you flying down to the bottom.

The clown let out one last, ragged, deep breath, taking in your scent further, memorizing you. It buried its face in your neck, and your stiffened, your body tensing up at Its touch, convinced It would bite into you any minute. It kept Its head there for a long while, then snapped Its head up, scowling at you. It let out a long, slippery tongue, and licked the lobe of your ear.

“Ssssss…….Sooo delicious….”

Its high-pitched and slithering voice echoed around the walls of the sewers, each sound bouncing off in different directions, making it feel as if the creature was everywhere, all around you, leaving you nowhere to turn.

It then grabbed you by the shoulders and forced you to look at It dead in the eyes, this time firm and intentional, not like the slighter softer embrace It had been had on your hips a moment before.

“You come back to me,” It hissed in a voice that was slightly more stable, more normal, yet still lacing its words was that menace, tracing Its every sound, “Or I’ll kill you.”

Then, Its insane smile began to creep back on its face, as if it had thought of a silly joke, Its face transforming from that of a serious grown man dressed as a clown to an unhinged child in the timespan of just a heartbeat, and It let out a horrid, insane laugh that echoed even louder amongst the walls. You closed your eyes, as if no longer allowing yourself to see the creature in front of you would somehow stop the cursed laughter ringing in your ears. It echoed everywhere, drowning your ears, bouncing off you skin, tracing your skin, now ripping off your skin; you saw it; the blood, the sickness, your eyes starting to ooze out of your skull, you were coming apart by every inch, your skin on fire, melting, melting…

Then you opened your eyes, and the clown, along with the hallucinations, was gone, and you were left standing in the sewer alone, with nothing but the peaceful trickle of water and your broken, quick breaths cutting through the silence.

Though you were disoriented for a good few nights after that, it was less than a week before you returned back to the sewer to see the clown again. Seeing the clown started to become a routine. If you didn’t come to It in the sewers, It would appear in your room late at night, or in the woods as you walked home from school. It was in your life in more ways than one; It overtook you not only mentally and spiritually, but physically as well, especially since It never seemed to need rest; It pounded Itself into you even after cumming, once, twice, three times, over and over, until utter exhaustion overcame you, your body completely spent. Its presence in your life was nothing that you could ignore, nor did you want to. Despite your natural terror towards the monster, you couldn’t help but be consistently and richly drawn to It. Soon referring to the creature as “It” began to feel wrong; your feelings for the clown were far too strong to see him as something lesser than the other loved ones in your life. You began to love him as deeply as you had loved anyone precious in your life, if not more. You learned his name, Pennywise, and the name rang in your head as you tasted him on your lips, the salt and blood from pushing his lips against yours ever present in your life, the taste remaining with you whether you were in the classroom surrounded by people or at home, isolated and alone, the sensation never leaving you, much like the fear never had, except this time it was utterly spellbinding, addicting, even. The feel of his cock against you and the ghost soft tender kisses on your face where intertwined with who you were, and after only a few weeks of being with the creature, you began to feel inseparable from the monster.


	2. Poison Dances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fades in and out of the past, hope it's not too confusing.

You walked down the run down street towards the Neibolt house, tension and uncertainty radiating in every part of your body, alarms shrieking off in your consciousness to turn around. It was hard enough that you hadn’t been here in weeks, but it felt like even longer, ages, in your mind since you’d last come here. You had been trying to block the place from your consciousness, pushing every memory, thought, desire, and longing that had persistently kept arising in your mind, knowing that you needed to move on once and for all. This place was bad for you, you kept telling yourself. A fragile human like you didn’t belong here, and you didn’t have the emotional capacity or strength to cope with the consequences that inevitability came along with you indulging in your lust and tenderness that you felt for the ambiguous being that dwelled here.

You stepped on the first step of the Neibolt house, the rundown wood making a screeching creek under your weight. Your eye winched; it was as if it was announcing your inappropriate arrival. Coming here felt like a failure to yourself, in a way; you were admitting that you couldn’t stay away. The amount of nights you laid in bed longing for his touch, despite every logical reason you had to move on, your vagina throbbing in heat and desire as you thought about the long, slender fingers that used to be pounded into you, while Pennywise snared down your face, his lazy demonic golden eyes full of longing and desire.

You didn’t just desire him and miss him in a sexual way. You felt an irreplaceable connection to the creature, and a love so deep that you were almost persuaded it was otherworldly. You were convinced you would never feel this way again, would never feel a love so complex, complicated, so desirable. Though the clown had his toxic ways, it was his flaws that only made you desire him more. There was something so precious about your time with him, whether it was lying against him in his arms while you tried to sleep, with his breathe lapping against your neck through his sharp fangs, something which had always appeared when he was horny or desiring you, or him fucking you raw near the endless junk pile of dead children’s toys in the sewers. From tender to rough, all were indescribably precious, filling you up both physically and spiritually, and every moment you spent with him had always left you wanting more.

And somewhere along the way you had begun to wonder if the love was requited. Though he would never speak it loud, his actions leaked the truth more than plenty. He would never be able to go more than a day without seeing you. Busyness was out of the question; he always made sure you had time to see him, and if you didn’t, your room would suddenly become much more occupied at night, his labored breathing begging for contact with you while he watched you get ready for the next day and climb into bed, the desire not leaving his clouded eyes until you invited him into the warmth of your legs underneath the sheets, or until he rested his forehead against your shoulder while you focused on your work, his impossibly plump red lips engulfing each bump on spine as he increasingly grew more impatient for your attention, starting from the top of your neck and down your back, and wouldn’t stop until he kissed and chewed on each one, then, with no more neck and back to kiss, would move on to nibbling your ear, his breath tickling and raising every hair on your neck, until you finally gave in to your desires for the night and smashed your lips against his, hearing his deep purr in resonating his throat, knowing he had won. 

He had always felt the need to touch you. Not just sexually, but he always felt the need to quench the burning thirst he always felt to be in contact with you in some way when he was around you. He needed to touch your side when standing, tickle or tease the nape of your neck with his breath, intertwine your fingers in his, or softly rest his lips against your cheek while you were sleeping. Contact was always needed. Always. Anything. Though you didn’t know it, when you weren’t with him he would often pace the grounds of his lair, trying to brush off the burning sensation he felt to be near you, to feel you. 

The last time you had been with Pennywise was intense, to say the very least. It had started off wonderful, purrs leaking from Pennywise’s throat as he gently gnawed at your neck and shoulders, you stroking his lower back as you took in every part of his more relaxed presence. You were so used to him dominating you, both physically and emotionally, but after entwining in such an intimate relationship with him for the time that you had, you noticed him begin to relax more now and then, no longer feeling the need to assert his dominance or his status as the demonic being he was as often the more he began to be so emotionally involved with you, though he still scared you, and you never knew what he was going to do next. He was like a ticking time bomb; one second he could be completely clingy, purring into your neck, easing his weight onto you like a cat, begging for attention, and the next he would undisturbed, distant, sinister, appearing moody and beastly all at once, and wouldn’t snap out of it unless you stroked his face, called his name, and, if that didn’t work, you would slowly make your way of the sewers, not daring to look behind you, feeling his dark presence watching you, feelings his breath lap against your neck, convinced that if you dared to look behind you you would find a demonic form inches from your neck, ready to sink its teeth into your veins. But you had caught the clown in one of his better moods this afternoon, and you were relishing in it, your vagina soaked just from being so intertwined with him, your breathing becoming slower and more in sync with his. 

“Mine,” he whispered quietly, so softly you had barely heard, but you savoured listening to the croak of his voice as he repeated himself, murmuring the word once more every couple of breaths, occasionally breaking a little skin to mark you as his. Though you didn’t know it, Pennywise often used this time to devour your scent, for how irresistibility delicious it was, the smell that radiated off your body, the mixture of your skin, breath, hair, the dust of your clothes, only interrupted by the traces of perfume and any other unnatural acetic scents that lingered on you, which he loathed passionately. His fingers traced over your neck, chest, and torso, his long tongue leaving the entrance of his crimson lips, which shined as he graced his tongue over them before licking the surface of your skin, almost moaning in pleasure at the taste of you, the urge to groan over his lust for you only increasing as his mind wandered to the taste of you between your legs, so heavenly and blissful to him, and he salivated even more so when he thought of how exquisitely delightful your skin would taste as a meal, the crunchiness of your bones and meaty taste of your intestines, the blood of your insides, oh how utterly wonderfully appetizing it would be, but since he could not have you as a meal, he would instead devour you in bloodies kisses, sucking the blood from the wounds he inflicted as it mixed in with the warmth of your skin while he trailed his lips across the area of your skin to inflict more. It had been a slow, comfortable afternoon as you relished in each others’ company. 

The rich afternoon was only interrupted when you made the mistake of checked your phone, which you did just as you had started to leave his embrace, realizing you had work you needed to catch up on before tomorrow. Pennywise had begun pouting and snarling when you said you had to leave, and you quickly pecked him on the lips, calming him down for a few short moments. A notification had popped up on your screen, pulling you away from the present, and it was only a few minutes of scrolling through the news when an article popped up concerning yet another death in Derry. At first you didn’t think too much of it; deaths in Derry happened far too frequently for each one to be intensely mourned. But as you clicked on the article and read through it, your heart stopped; it was one of your closest childhood friends from when you were little. Though you had lost touch a long time ago, you had kept in touch now and then, seeing each other in the hallways of your school and occasionally sharing about what had been going on in each other’s lives. The friendship had been a precious one to you. 

You bit your lip and tears began to flow down your cheeks, and before you knew it you were visibly shaking and sobbing. Pennywise instantly got up and embraced you in his arms, pulling you close. Ever so slightly, he began to leave soft kisses around your cheeks, using his tongue to lick away the salty tears that had begun to run off your cheek. It had taken him awhile to begin to understand the complexity of human emotions and how to deal with them, but through his desire and longing for you, he had started to desire to understand them at least a bit, to gain a better understanding of them and how to deal with them, but solely for your sake. His inhuman, malicious invested mind would never truly be able to comprehend the tenderness of caring for another broken soul the way a human did, but through his involvement with you, he had picked up a few tendencies.

“What’s wrong?” He squeaked in his currently high-pitched and childish voice; his voice could go from sounding like an innocent, excited essence to that of an incredibly deep, rough, almost demonic voice within minutes; you were never sure what to expect. His deep blue eyes were currently attempting to stare at you in the straightest way they could. They were always slightly misaligned, and there was always a disconnect in his eyes that you never truly understood; as if he was attempting to take in the world and interact with it, be a part of it, but never truly being able to find that final piece that made him belong.

You didn’t answer, your sobs were starting overtaking you, and for a few moments you just clutched your hands on his dirty clown suit, taking out the unbearable waves of grief by holding onto him as hard as you could. Your lungs closed up, and you soon felt like you couldn’t breathe for a few minutes, freely giving in and letting the waves of grief come in it’s powerful waves before you could speak.

“M-my friend…S-she’s gone…”

You felt Pennywise tense a bit, and his embrace tightened, but not in a comfortable way. It felt more possessive, as if his intentions for holding you were suddenly stemming from insecurity rather than love. He said nothing, but cupped your face in his and began to to caress your face with his long fingers, catching each tear that fell down your cheek.

You stared up into his eyes, always slightly crazed, and full of more depth and wonder than you could ever even begin to think of. You has always found yourself getting lost in them, and right now they provided more comfort than ever before. 

“I don’t know…” You choked on some of your saliva gathering up on your mouth, and forced yourself to swallow before continuing. “What could have possibly happened to her…I saw her just last month and she was...fine. I don’t understand…” 

You stroked one of his hands that were embracing your face, and then let it fall. You looked away from his face and instead down on the floor, feeling strangely embarrassed. You stood there for a few moments, surprised at how exhausted you felt from your short weeping session.

Pennywise had stared down at you, his raspy breathing one of the only things that came as a comfort to you. You dared to look back up into his eyes and found that they were unreadable, as usual, but this time they were more guarded somehow, as if hiding something in their endless profundity.

And then, it hit you.

“You ate her, didn’t you?” You spat, your anger coming faster than you could control it, rising up in your chest and leaving sharp pangs in your throat, which was now closing up, making it difficult for you to breath from the rage that was quickly fuming within you. You stepped back, tension and utter manic anger making you shake violently. You started to make your way out of the room and rushed down the stairs, blood pounding in your ears, with every intention to leave as quickly as possible, both enraged and terror-struck.

Pennywise's’ eyes began to dissolve into a bright golden, and his eyes began to look more unfocused, taking on that terrifying animal look that he got when he was furious, starving, or trying to scare an unfortunate victim. In this case, it looked like it was the latter.

A monstrous growl began to form in his throat, and his buck teeth began to transform into millions of small sharp fangs as his body shook violently. Your breathing became quickened and you tried to make an entrance to leave, but he slammed both of your wrists against the wall, wood creaking underneath the pressure of the weight. He lunged forward and bite you down hard into your neck. You let out a wail of pain, tears of pain and fear trailing down your face.

“You think you can do this to me, Y/N? You think you can get up and leave me? You’re mine. You said you were mine when I was fucking you into the sheets, you begging for my touch-ohahahaha!” He shoved you further into the wood, you gritting your teeth together to endure the pain. “And when I held you while you whimpered at night-you can’t take it back. You’re mine forever. Always.”

You tried to fight against his grip but he was too strong, his weight holding you immoveable against the wall. With every word his growls began to become more animalistic, more insane and terrifying. “I saw you kiss your mother on the cheek last night. I see you while I’m watching you in the sewers, you laughing along with your friends and smiling. Those smiles and kisses belong to me, do you understand?”

You let out a squeal of fright and desperation, as his weight pushing you against the wall grew stronger. You began to feel the breath being pushed out of you, and you struggled against his strength like a weak animal, gasping for air.

Pennywise's’ grip on you only grew stronger, and his fangs began to protrude increasingly more out of his steadily increasing gums, and your terror at this sight ceased any struggles you were attempting. You instead froze cold, and waited for your fate.

Instead of launching his fangs into you, he started at you intensity with his ferocious golden eyes, piercing you with his stare. The tension between you grew and more thick, until you were convinced it would engulf you into its depths. A few moments went by, though they felt like ages, with him staring at you like a crazed beast, and then, just when you were convinced your bones would break from the pressure, he released you, gums, fangs, droll and all receding, along with his anger.

“Now you remember who you belong to. I do what I want. You forget, little pet. You always forget. But your mine, and no matter what happens, you’ll always come back.” His voice had deepened into a rough, harsh sound. He then let out a crazed giggle.

Shaking uncontrollably, too scared and weak to think of anything to do or say, you simply raced out of the house and slammed the door of the Neibolt house, not slowing your pace until you made it to your house, warm, familiar, and safe.

Of course Pennywise could follow you here and show up if he really wanted to, but you knew he wouldn’t. There was a certain understanding you two had established, and right now, you could tell he would stay in the sewers, most likely seething and brooding away in anger from your interaction.

Weeks had gone by, and you never made even the slightest attempt to come back to him. Your relationship with the clown was stormy, to say the absolute least; though you were, in a twisted way, infatuated with the creature, it was clear every day what he was; not of the world, a creature that feasted off of the flesh of those of your own kind, a manifestation of some otherworldly energy. If he even was that. You didn’t know. You didn’t know if you even wanted to know. Though you had found your peace with this in your own way through the love you grew for him, seeing him so bluntly disregard someone so important to you that you felt you had made clear would hurt you was destroying you, and confusing you as to how he felt towards you.

Yow knew you loved him. But did he love you?

Though you didn’t know it, somewhere in the creature’s twisted, malicious manifested mind, he had begun to care for you the way he had never before for any creature before, least of all human. You could slightly sense it in a way through some of the things he did; the way he caressed your cheeks with his lips while you worked, the tender kisses you occasionally shared between intercourse, the trance-like state that his face would take when he stared at you for too long, his usually expressive face suddenly becoming smooth and almost placid, his eyes becoming empty and peaceful, reflecting none of the usual torment that you knew was locked somewhere inside of him, a jail for countless caught and tortured souls.

But what convinced you most of all was that he stayed. Though it was wearing on his body, though you could see the labor it took for him to stay as a physical being on this earth longer than he was meant to, he stayed, and, though you didn’t know it, when Pennywise began to flirt with the idea of going into his hibernation, his physical form weighing down on his natural state for far too long, your face began to form in his mind, and all temptation to give in ceased, at least for a short while.

The clown has always known that he would have to leave you eventually. He had been back haunting Derry for almost the two full years, and he had begun to feel his moral body form weakening. His breathing had begun to become more labored, especially when he strained his body to do more trying tasks, even the simplest actions that were tuned to his nature, like a simple hunt for food. He had begun to feel less and less like a being that could exist amongst the physical world, even as a shapeshifting incomprehensible being. He needed to return to oblivion; he had had his indulgent feast. He was full, and ready to rest in nothing but his true form for another twenty seven years. But it was the thought of leaving you that made him stay. The thought of leaving you disgusted him. It mortified him. He couldn’t recognized the feeling or why it was there, but it rested in his consciousness relentlessly like an angry child wailing to his mother, begging and screaming to be fed, to be acknowledged. There was no ignoring it.

One of the harder parts of your relationship had occurred only a short time ago before this last incident that had pushed you to leave him for good. It had happened after a particularly hard episode of his one of possessive tantrums. He had showed up in your room at a surprisingly early hour, his face furious, shoulders hunching, staring at you like you were a piece of meat, or an pet about to be punished.

As a matter of fact, you were.

“Why are you leaving me, pet?” He growled furiously, seconds away from locking his hands around your throat, his the skin tight material of his gloves stretching away as the hint of claws began to grow grotesquely out of his skin.

“Penny, I told you, it’s a family trip. A vacation.” You continued to pack your clothes, trying your best to appeared unfazed, though fear coursed through every part if your body, knowing what the clown was capable of. And he smelt it. 

“You can’t leave me. You’ll come back, and you’ll reek of them, just like you do every time you come back to the sewers, you always smell like…” He scrunched up his nose, almost comically, his threatening demonic aura dissolving for a few moments. “Other people.” He shakes in a cringe-esque fashion, as if just the thought of his significant other reeking of the stench of others was the most disgusting thing to have graced his consciousness. Which was saying a lot, for a billion year old entity, you thought with the slightest smirk.

“It’s two days.” You turned around to make eye contact with the monster, whose eyes were currently dissolving into a deep red, angry and unfocused. “Two. Days,” you said, exasperation lining your voice. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

He snarled and went up to you, staring you down. You were reminded again of how tall he was; he towered over you, making you feel as small and as helpless as a child, as easily breakable as a toy in comparison.

“Our time is limited, Y/N”, he growled into your face, his cotton candy scented breath wafting into your face. “You know that. I want you here, with me.” He pressed his face closer to yours, until the tip of your noses were touching, then pressed his lips to the tip of your nose, but angrily, in a way that was almost threatening, the pressure of them suffocating. “Mine.”

Before you could respond, he pressed his lips onto your throat, and your breathing hitched in surprise. You felt the sensation of his fangs emerge from his mouth, and he began biting down on you, hard, breaking skin and sucking up the blood, a practice that had become almost a certain ritual in your relationship. You moaned both in pain and even slight arousal, enjoying the feeling of your lover pressing his teeth into your skin despite yourself, yet remaining scared and uncertain at the same time. You didn’t know what his intentions were this time, and you couldn’t resist the urge to run. Your instincts turned out to be right this time; his fangs only deepening into your skin, causing a grotesque amount of blood start to pour down your throat, chest, torso, legs, until it spilled on the floor, staining the wood and making the bottoms of your feet sticky and red with it. Any pleasure from the contact instantly vanished, and you began to feel only deep, incredible pain, and a horrible black fear.

You felt yourself blacking out, and panic began to well up inside of you, as you knew you were far too weak to fight back against him, or even to push him away. Black dots began to paint your vision, and you could feel your legs losing their strength. After what felt like hours, by some miracle his fangs pushed away from your neck for a few moments. You looked up at him, shaking, black spots interrupting any hope for you to see straight, still panicking and too frozen with fear to know what to do. His eyes were thoroughly bloodshot, sent off in completely different directions; he had lost control; he couldn’t resist the delicious smell of your terror or the taste of your blood, so much sweeter to him than any other victim he had ever taken advantage of. You had always tasted extra sweet to him, more than most humans he had ever consumed in his entire existence here on earth, more than any flesh he had ever consumed, making the temptation that much harder for him to fight against not to eat you alive. Every time he was near you it was the equivalent of a starved, insane animal being near the fattest piece of meat it had been near in months, and it was a miracle he was able to resist from consuming you. Especially with how intimate you two were together. He would pound into you, his fangs and dripping saliva inches away from your throat, the irresistible aroma of your scent egging him on insistently, and it was only the overwhelming desire to keep you, hold you, and own you that prevented him from sinking his fangs into a potential juicy meal right then. It was knowing this that provided some of the only comfort you had when he was like this, reminding you that no matter what, though he may mark you and wound you, he would never kill you.

Tonight, you were not so sure.

Finally collecting yourself, you managed to begin to back away from his bloodied face, his painted red mouth almost indistinguishable from the blood that currently covered his entire chin and splashed all the way up to his cheekbones. You almost made your way to your door, reaching behind you for the doorknob, not daring to turn your back on Pennywise, who was currently staring at you more like you were an inconvenience that needed to be killed off more than anything else. 

Your fingertips just barely grazed the doorknob when your feet suddenly slipped on the blood that was covering the floor, and you fell back first onto the floor, your breath being knocked out of you. Pain shot throughout your entire body and you gritted your teeth, trying to collect yourself so you could leave. Pennywise began to advance toward you, and through your increasingly failing vision you couldn’t tell if it was threatening or not, but you were already so frightened that your first reaction to him coming towards you was to gasp in fear, quickly easing yourself up on your hands and clumsily getting yourself back on your feet, trying your best not to slip on your own blood, finally managing to get a balance on your feet as you raced through the rest of your house, opened the front door, and sprinted away down the street.

Your thoughts were racing, your mind mudded with unclear intentions as you limped as fast as you could down your neighborhood. You didn’t know where you needed to go, but you knew you needed to get somewhere...Safe? Yes, but also somewhere different. Different from the street, different from the houses that lined the side of it. Somewhere isolated, alone, where you could be with your confused and despairing thoughts in peace.

For reasons unknown to you an image of the woods raced across your mind, and before you made conscious thought about it you found yourself rushing your bloodied body towards the entrance of the woods, its darkness appearing even more haunting in the dark sweep of the night.

You began to make your way down the dirtied path, your breath ragged and shallow, a combination of both fighting the pain of the wounds, the loss of blood, and the long trek it took to get over to the woods. It sounded like you were dying, and, for all you knew, maybe you were. You pushed yourself to keep going regardless.

You didn’t know how long you walked for; to your troubled mind and wounded body it felt like hours. The trees began to melt into one another, the darkness taking you in, and you began to become convinced that there was nothing outside of this, nothing outside of you limping through the woods, hurt and eternally lost.

You tripped on a root, or you thought it was a root, but you weren’t sure, your vision was so blurry and unfocused. You fell to the ground, you knees scraping the unforgiving, damp forest floor, blood beginning to ooze out of your cuts and dirt sweeping in. You fell over to your side, too weak to do anything to help yourself, shivering, wounded, and cold. The wounds Pennywise had left on your body, previously a source of warmth, arousal, and comfort, now felt like just what they were; deep, ruthless, unkind cuts in your skin, and the burning and the pain of them began to feel increasingly more persistent. You pulled your heavy, damp sweater over your shoulders. Your mind was muddled and miserable as tears feel freely down your face. Your body began to shiver uncontrollably, and you began to truly take in how truly damp and muddy it was outside, soaking into what little was left of your shredded clothes and skin. You tried to warm yourself up with your numb, impossibly cold hands, but after only one or two rubs around your arm, you realized it was hopeless. You let out one last shuddered, defeated breath, and then closed your eyes, accepting your brutal fate for the night.

It seemed like only two seconds went by before you sensed the presence of a large figure standing in front of you. Your eyes shot open in automatic response to movement, your fear being reignited instantly. You didn’t dare look up at the figure, partly because of fear, but mostly because you already knew who it was, as you instantly recognized the pointed white shoes stripped with black, each shoe complimented with a bright red pompom on the end.

Pennywise started down at you, his eyes unreadable. You thought for a moment you saw a flash of grief hidden in those blue depths, but it was gone so quick and was so fleeting that you convinced yourself you must have imagined it through your delirious state. He leaned down and picked you up, your small frame seeming like a child compared to his tall, powerful structure. You didn’t bother trying to fight him; you were already far too weak and damaged to try anything anymore. The walk home was long, the sound of his labored breath being the only noise in the quiet of that still night. You had kept your eyes closed, not wanting to speak, just listening to the gentle wheezing of his breath. It strangely calmed you, and you began to relax into his arms, the harshness of the earlier interaction fading into your mind.

He had ended up placing you in your bed, leaving you on top of your sheets. When you knew he had his back turned and was starting to leave the room, you opened your eyes carefully and ever so slightly, watching as his stood in your room for a few moments, completely still, as if taking it all in. Then you blinked, and when you opened your eyes he was gone.

You had been worried sick all night about how to clean up the blood, knowing one of your parents would walk in and ask questions. Your body was too sore and aching for you to even attempt to move it, and so you laid awake all night, accepting that you would have to admit to seeing to being involved with an alien clown in the morning.

However, when your mom crept in your room the next day, she made no reference to the blood; as a matter of fact she stepped right through it, and never once acknowledged it.

The next few weeks went by in a dazed blur. You couldn’t tell if you were depressed, but after a week of having no signs of the clown in your life, you knew one thing for certain; you missed him. You would go to school in a daze, coming home at night uninterested in accomplishing or doing anything productive. During your walks home you found yourself peeking into the sewer drains, attempting to see through the darkness of them to find him, or even just a whisper of his existence, but they remained as ordinary as ever, emptiness echoing throughout them.

After week three went by you had begun to accept that he may be gone, that he was never coming back, and the hole of heartache began to take form in your chest, making each breath harder than the last.

You had contemplated going back to the sewers, but were too afraid. What you were feeling was an ironic balance between love and terror, attachment and yet uncertainty. Which one did you chose? You hadn’t the slightest idea, you just knew that for the present time being, you were broken.

Then, during one of your usual walk homes from school, you saw it; a single red balloon tied to a mailbox, one that he was sure you would pass. A intoxicating stream of joy coursed through you, and you instantly ran over and untied the balloon to your wrist, determined not to let it go. You had quickly made your way back to your house, feeling the most alive and hopeful than you had in weeks, knowing that Pennywise would return.

And he had returned indeed. While you were lying in your bed that night, staring at the ceiling, thoughts too crowded and heart too anxious to sleep, you had begun to hear a familiar low growl, though this time its sound resonated closer to a deep purr, under the bed. Instantly you leaned half your body out of you bed and looked down, and there you saw Pennywise, his body contorted in inhuman ways, legs stretched over his head, arms twisted and torso contorted, and you let out a squeal of delight. 

“Penny!” You squeaked. “You’re here!”

At your reaction his face light up into that buck toothed grin, letting out a shirked, insane giggle. He untangled his limbs from their unnatural state and creeped out from under your bed, crawling onto your bed beside you. You instantly lied down and let him engulf you in his arms, spooning you, and he began leaving soft pecks on your vertebrae. The smell of burnt sugar filled your senses as you began to drift off, happier and more grateful than you could ever remember being.

That was then. Now, your relationship had grown and matured in the slightest, but whether your reunion was for better or for worse was increasingly unclear to you.

His presence in your life consumed you; it was indescribable. His existence deepened through your mind, and his energy coursed through your bones, blood and your veins. You felt intensity intertwined with him, and you felt yourself losing what you once were; you certainly were longer the same person you had once been, a skittish being, afraid to even watch a horror movie at family night with your parents.

You hadn't felt the same since being involved with Pennywise, and the change went deeper than just personality. You didn't feel as if you were truly "here", in the now, on this earth. You felt otherworldly at times, discontent with your earthly life, and felt as if your sense of humanity and earthly consciousness could be snatched away in a breeze. Some days this sensation was incredibly freeing, enlightening you to excitement as you enjoyed this new state of spirit, and would run to the sewers, eager to fall into the clown’s embrace, whose essence started to match your own. Other days your mind raced, and the wall you felt between yourself and other humans could have suffocated you. You never felt more alone or lost on these days, questioning everything about yourself and your life, wondering if any of it was even worth it. Not even understanding your own thoughts. Wanting to escape your human form, somehow. Feeling almost suicidal, in a way, but not truly; you simply didn’t want to be in this form anymore. The ever aging morality of your skin prickled you and teased you, almost as if it didn’t “match” your soul anymore. Was that it? 

Perhaps. And the worst part was, you knew you had no validation to feel this way. There was no way for you to leave this human body, and there was no logical sense that you wanted to. Or at least, not as far as you knew.

You knew the monster was capable and even had a consistent history of driving people insane, and you wondered if that was what he was doing to you, slowly but surely. The truth was, though you yourself didn't know it, was that he was in fact driving you to insanity, but his love for you softened it, quieted it, deafened it. It was true that you would never feel or be the same again even if you were to leave Derry or somehow get Pennywise out of your life forever; his influence on you was one that no human would be able to recover or heal from. But the insanity he left on you was softer than that which he used on his other victims, and even Derry as a whole. And though there was insanity to that bliss, it was traced in love, a twisted, monstrous love, that was incomprehensible to the human mind. You would live out the rest for your days with this foggy, disoriented sense of reality, that you weren't really "here", that your life was all but a dream, that your consciousness was just a trick and a game. Though every person in Derry was under his twisted spell, you were more in a state of eternal bliss, though that bliss came with a bittersweet feel; something that he couldn’t control. It was in his nature to have negative effect on humans, and knowing he was doing this to you often drove him a little crazy himself, or at least as crazy as a demonic being, already free from the caged state of consciousness that humans endure, can be. Perhaps “crazy” wasn’t the word; more like he felt discontent, or, if he was truly being honest with himself, though he would never admit it, tormented with what his involvement and influence he was having on you; knowing that it was twisting you, controlling you into something you weren’t. He looked into the future and felt the taste of deep anguish; he saw only that his presence in your life would twist you into an insane, miserable, and disorientated being in your weak and easily twistable human state. No longer would you be his precious little pet, his sweet-smelling, soft skinned precious darling; you would become a mental patient, gripping your hands with your head on the daily, hardly able to hold a conversation, unable to get help, unable to understanding your otherworldly thoughts that consumed your head every second; thoughts that weren’t made for any human to endure; thoughts that they shouldn’t endure, thoughts that they couldn’t endure. Knowledge, it was, knowledge that no small human mind was supposed to be revealed to. They were meant only for outer dimension souls such Pennywise, and he knew this all too well. He saw your eyes become more clouded over throughout the weeks; during these times he would stroke the side of your face, as if in a trace, unable to understand the emotions that came along with seeing the one earthly being he had managed to develop a sense of feelings for succumbing to the toxic effects that he so naturally had on those who were lesser than him. 

He knew if he did manage to drive you insane like the other countless victims, the concept that was gradually becoming his worst fear would come true; that he would have lost you, the you that he loved to hold, to feel, to kiss, to taste. Most victims he wanted to modify, to change according to his rich hatred for human nature, to morbidly twist them until they were unrecognizable, until they were a screeching, suicidal, withering mess, begging to be killed. He would then kill them with ease accompanied by a gleeful cackle, smelling and releasing in their fear and torment, delicious and rewarding on his tongue.

With you it was different. With you, he wanted to taste your happiness, as disgustingly bitter to him as it was. During the busier times of your life he would watch you from the bushes, the sewer, the trees, just to get a glimpse and a taste of you, relishing in the stinking smell of your peace and joy, even enjoying the scent of your mundane, ordinary and everyday feelings, simply to taste you at all. 

If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was to not taste you at all. There was something about your scent that was so addictive to him that he couldn't bear to be away from it for long, no matter how much of whatever emotion you were feeling reeked to him. It astounded him. How much he wanted you-needed you. 

The inner conflict he experienced with this gradual realization over the months began to take it’s toll on him, along with the natural weakening that came along with his need to take his long rest. It began to weigh on him, and an emotion he couldn’t quite understand began to take shape within him; and though he himself didn’t know the emotion in his consciousness of understanding, that emotion was self-loathing. The ironic twist that came along with loving you, which gave him a certain feeling of utter completeness and wholeness, one that had previously been alien to his simple, malicious and animalistic nature, was the lack of love he began to have for himself. Truthfully, the creature didn’t love himself the way a human did; rather it was that he never thought about anyone but himself, never gave a second thought to what he did to others, and, if he did, he reveled and relished in it, and a dark, twisted, unhinged cackled glee would form in his throat at the thought of the fear he left on the feeble beings of the Earth.. Before you, he thought of nothing but what was best for him; what he needed, what he wanted. In the nights when you were asleep, warm in your bed, he would lie in the orange-lit circus trailer that was in the lair of his sewers, either staring at the dirty, damp walls of his surroundings, or look up to study the grey, floating bodies that eternally circled his den, trying to understand the lascivious draw he felt to you, far more so more than the other lust he had felt for other earth women, this love, this vile consideration, this caring he had for another soul besides his own. Often he would dig his claws into the dirt, hot, heavy, breath seething between his fangs, his eyes wandering in separate directions, more animal by the second, frustration turning to anger, anger turning to hatred, hatred turning to...hopelessness. Yet another alien emotion that the monster was becoming more accustomed to as he learned to love you.

He dealt with his frustrations and heartache in his usual way. His killing in the past month had increased, and you had taken notice. Though you were obviously never comfortable with the idea of him killing off other humans, you knew he was doing it to live, just how a lion killed off antelope to survive. It was in his nature, and he physically needed it to survive, but you knew that his more recent and consistent killings were stemming from something else entirely. It hurt you; you had begun to lost count of how many faces you had met; at school, in the library, in the neighborhood, smiling and friendly, sharing in each other’s company and laughing along with their jokes, making warm, amicable small talk, only to see their face on television a few days later, usually reported “missing”, though everyone in Derry knew in the back of their heads that no one was truly going to put in the effort to find them; that it was all for show, a cruel dance to make everyone in Derry convince themselves they were like everyone else in the world, and not under the twisted spell of an impenetrable monster, twisting and corrupting their view of what was once considered the irreplaceable value of a human life into a simple cheap loss.

As this began to weigh on you you knew you had to try something. You had made a certain “deal” with Pennywise; the conversation had taken place on night in the heart of the sewers, by his giant pile of disregarded toys. You were sitting on a disgustingly old chair, moth eaten and worn. 

“I just can’t take seeing people I know killed. Can’t you hunt in another town?”

Pennywise had simply ignored your gaze, snarling discontentedly into the distance. 

“Penny?” You waited a few moments. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t leave here,” he finally snarled in reply.

“Why?” You don’t know why you bothered to ask. You had already tried to get this information out of him several times, and had never succeeded at getting an answer.

Finally, after a few short awkward moments of silence, you stood out of your chair and came over to the sulking clown, taking one of his skin tight gloved hands in yours, stroking the top of it gently.

“Penny,” you said quietly. “Please talk about this with me. I love you,” You bit your lip, not sure if this was the right time to acknowledge this. You had rarely ever said it outloud to him, and he had never said the words to you at all. But his face remained in the same annoyed glare, staring into the distance, and so when he made no reaction to the words, you continued.“I want you to be happy, and healthy. We need to work this out. Please.”

Pennywise had taken up to glaring at the ground now instead, something that apparently had become fascinating to him within the past few minutes. You decided to take it up a notch and moved your other hand to cup his face, pushing him gently to look at you. You stared into his eyes, golden currently, and had to fight not to forget what you were doing and get lost in their endless profundity.

“I need to,” he grumbled, slightly less indignant now, but still persistent in his angry aura. 

“I know,” you said softly, your thumb softly tracing his jawline, then gradually up to his bottom lip, always so soft, red, and plump, slight drool slowly beginning to ran off of it at the sensation of being so close to you, of being caressed by you. “But we need to make a…” You bit your lip, trying to find the right word. “A compromise.”

A low rumble formed in Pennywise's’ throat, and you knew you were overstepping your boundaries; he was, after all the dominate one in the relationship, and you weren’t the one who made the decisions. It wounded his pride at the thought of making a “compromise” with you; that suggested there was a certain equality between the both of you. Which was not the case, and, as far as he was concerned, would never be.

“Penny, I’m not asking you to stop feeding altogether. That would be ridiculous.” You dared to lean your head forward and press your lips against his cheek, tenderly. He made no response. “I just don’t want you to feed off of those I have a connection with, alright? Or any type of a….significant relationship with.” You leveled your eyes with his, staring into them, trying to make your communication with him as intimate and clear as possible. “Is that okay with you?”

He started at you for a few short moments, his scowl softened but still present on his face, then grunted. You smirked, taking that as a yes, then snuggled into his arm, which he reluctantly went along with after a few moments of his stiff body being awkwardly next to yours, then relaxed slightly more into your touch.

That was the reason why you had felt so betrayed, so utterly defeated in this relationship when you discovered that he had eaten one of your friends that meant the most to you. Though you knew your relationship and therefore the dynamics of it where rather eccentric, you always knew there was so level of respect to it, some level of old fashioned, classic human love; “I love you and therefore I won’t do what truly hurts you”. Though he fucked you when he pleased, not caring how much he hurt you, though he bite you and swore at you and tried to possess you and control your life, you had always assumed that at the end of the day, at the core of your relationship, he loved you enough to try and compromise who he was for you, even if just a small amount. When you discovered that he had managed to cross the boundaries of a request asking for so little, that was when you started to truly question why you were so infatuated with a monster. He was never going to stop being who he was, what he was, for anyone, especially not a human being. The grief of discovering one of your most precious friends dying, along with the shock that your deepest love had betrayed you and been the cause of it, was too much for you to bear. So you ran, you went home, and you tried your best to fight through the unbearable pain and your deepest heartache, the loss coursing through you, and you fought to forget and move on.

Yet here you were. 

Even during the time you were away, you could sense he was with you. The aroma of cotton candy and burning hot dogs would fill up your senses in the middle of a class. The ominous feeling of a soft touch of a hand wearing skin tight gloves would tease you, pit-pattering along your thighs while you sat in your room or rode in the car, along with your stomach, neck, and any other body part he wished. Making every hair on your body rise in anticipation and thrill. You couldn't say you didn't enjoy these little signs of Pennywise's’ presence, reminding you that even when you weren't his, you were. 

You felt his possessive air following you around, and though you tried your best to ignore it, you knew he was always following you, watching you. Sometimes you forgot yourself and looked around you, even in public places, no longer caring who saw you. You could have sworn that the feeling of demonic eyes against your back were so real that they scorched into you, that your skin could have burned from them, but when you observed every possible space, area, and corner surrounding you, you saw nothing, and the sensation temporarily passed as easily as it came.

It had only been a few weeks until you started to hear his whispers in the wind, sometimes whispering demonic threats, “Y/N, where are you going? You know I could easily snap you in half if you disobeyed me, right? Heueueue…”. Other times, they almost sounded like small whispers of pleading, laced in warnings, begging you to for you to come back to him.

“Silly girl, why do you leave me alone? I’m decaying, you know, you silly foolish girl. Soon I’ll leave this earth and you will be left alone to grow old and wither away, and I won’t be here to lick the saltiness from your tears, oh, no no, no!” Unhinged, twisted choking with an element of giggles would then ring in your ears, pounding in your skull, until they drowned out all your other senses, until you couldn’t think or breathe properly, until you were withering on the ground of your room, holding your head with your hands, rocking back and forth, fighting both desire and terror at the sound his high-pitched, childlike voice begging for you to return.


	3. Bittersweet Nothings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots and lots of smut in this one. I went ham.

Snapping back to the present, you started to fully take in being back to the house. As you entered the opening of the house, you looked around at the place that looked so haunted, abandoned, and desolated, and wondered how such an unsightly place could be associated to a time full of so much love, lust, and hot desire. The place always felt like a character in and of itself, with an energy of its own. Even when you were in a drowsy state in your clown’s arms, feeling secured, safe and warm, at least for that moment, you always felt an ominous feeling, like you were being watched by the very walls of the house. The house certainly had a dark energy that always left you with a vague sense of fear, and you had never been able to discern if it actually existed inside of you, or if it was some trick on your mind from Pennywise to further amplify your sense of fear and uncertainty, which never truly disappeared around him, never knowing what he was thinking or what he would do next; a gift to himself so that he would always have at least a little to feast on, no matter how comfortable you became.

You walked up the old, creaky stairs of the house, the narrow spiral staircase full of a strange urgent energy, seeming to push you along hurriedly, almost making you feel like a child again, reminding you of when your mother would rush you off to forced playdates while she dashed off to work.

You walked the hallway that greeted you when you made your way up the stairs, the weak, tainted sunlight struggling to light the house as it streamed through the yellow stained glass window. You made your way through the cobwebs and dirt of the house and came into the entrance of the room that meant the most to you, the one with nothing but the old, brown mattress lying on the separate end of the room, and an equally worn down rocking chair that had been carelessly tossed to the side, filthy broken parts of wood littering the floor. The light of the outdoors struggled to peak through the window; it was as if they very house itself was trying to keep out any daylight from entering and warming the brokenness of the house. The mattress was impossibly worn down and beaten, especially after you and Pennywise had had your way with it. Perhaps it had once been white, but years of abandonment and decay had rendered it with nothing but moth holes and seemingly endless layers of dirt. You were amazed it still had any fluff left to it, but then you remembered that there were no living creatures here who would lie on it, save for yourself, and you had only touched it a few times. You sat down on it and looked around, feeling more nervous in the quiet of the house by the second, wondering if the clown had sensed you were here yet or not.

You heard a faint, innocent, soft laugh in the not so far off distance. A child suddenly came to the corner of your vision, and you jolted in surprise. It’s eerie laugh echoed around the house, and you felt a chilling cold arising inside of you. Its silky form, or rather its essence, ran across the hallway and into the next room, out of your vision. Though you knew it was only an illusion of Pennywise's’, you couldn’t help but have your heart beat in your throat. His visions that he tortured you with always felt so real, every time, no matter how many times he manipulated your mind into seeing them.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the child came back into your vision, this time directly facing you from the hallway, running at you in a disturbing speed, coming at you faster than a speeding car, it’s eyes clouded over, holes of lifeless voids, its face rotten and decayed, tiny fangs sticking out of its smiling mouth. It had an insane look in its eyes, and you instantly stood up, frozen in place, unable to move. Just as it was about to collide with you it opened its mouth, its razor fangs only growing in number , and you screamed, finally being able to force your body to move out of its frightened state. You lunged out of the way just as the demonic child was about to bite into you, and then it vanished into the mattress. You fell on the floor, splinters striking into your arm. Shaken, you lifted your trembling hand up to your mouth, trying to stop the tears from falling, but failing.

“Penny?” You said, your words just barely forming out of your trembling mouth, echoing into the house, you trying to keep your voice steady but failing miserably, your voice sounding like a shaken little girl, which, right now, resonated pretty close to how you felt. 

A few moments of complete silence; all you could hear was the sound of your heart thumping against your chest. A deep purr began to rumble around the corner of the entrance to the room, and you forced yourself up, stepped forward, shaking and terrified, yet yearning and desiring of what was coming next. A few long, silent moments went by, you waiting in anticipation. Then, you saw the slightest hint of orange fire hair peeking out from the doorway, and then a cracked white painted face, then glowing, ever changing eyes. He had the smile of an ecstatic child on his face, his buck-toothed smile getting wider by the second, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

You squealed, both in excitement and with the dangling remains of your fear, and the rush you got from seeing him again caused you to rushed back to the mattress eagerly, panting heavily in a bittersweet mingle of joy and uncertainty.

He advanced towards you playfully, crouching like he was approaching a child, exaggeratingly waving his arms back and forth in rhythm with his steps while a gleeful smile graced his face. You squealed, overjoyed beyond what you expected at seeing your lover again. Once he reached the end of the mattress he leaped onto you, making the old mattress bounce as he embraced you in his arms and began to pepper your face with soft warm kisses with his red plump lips. You two acted like children for a few moments, savoring in coming together again once more, Pennywise letting out his unhinged manic giggles and you letting out your small breathy laughs. 

He embraced you in his arms, being careful not to crush you with his weight, his purrs becoming louder by the second. His breath teased your ear, and tingles shot down from your torso down to your toes, the physical sensation of being so close to him again enlightening you and taking your breath away.

“I knew you’d come back to me,” he rumbled between purrs, nuzzing his face into your neck.

You nuzzled in return, absolutely relishing in the smell of cotton candy and burnt sugar that followed him everywhere. 

He began to lick your face relentlessly, nibbling your cheeks with his buck teeth in between them. He needed to taste every inch of you, licking and gently gnawing from your neck down to your chest, your breasts, your shoulders, your arms, your torso…your vagina. Pennywise glanced up at you with a smirk, a naughty glint in his eyes. You slyly closed your legs together, teasing him. 

A knowing sparkle and a yet bigger smirk appeared on his full red lips, and he temporarily forgot his lust for your vagina for a moment. He leaned forward towards your face and let out a small manic giggle in the whisper before your lips meet, then smashed them passionately against yours, mashing them while slippery drool fell from his lips, covering both your mouth and his. Your fingers flittered across his neck and he moaned against your lips in the famished, slobbering kiss. His droll was dripping down to the rolls of his collars, his fingers intertwined in your hair. With every motion both of your movements began more involved and intimate, craving for more touch, more feel, more skin against skin. 

Your lips parted and you nodded ever so slightly, giving him permission to enter you with his incredibly large tongue. He let out a gleeful cackle, and moved down your body and began to remove your jeans, then your panties, leaving you exposed, baring your body to him. He seemed to zone out looking at your form, giving it a spaced out, blank stare. You could tell his eyes, currently a deep, ocean blue, were taking in every inch of your exposed body. Yet even more drool began to spill out of his lips, dribbling down onto his clown suit, one of his eyes began to wonder off due to how distracted he was to his allure to your form. 

“Penny?” You said teasingly, slightly uncomfortable but trying your best not to show it. 

He jolted slightly, taken out of his transfixed state, and tried to form words, a raspy incoherent noise coming out of his throat. You giggled, pleased at his reaction, and fully relishing one of the softer and more tender moments between him. He soon resumed his process, this time more focused and much more intent. As soon as every inch of clothes was removed from your entrance he lurched his mouth down into your warm folds, letting his slender, long, yet wide tongue feel every inch of you. You started to let out small moans of pleasure, arching your back against the wooden wall, too caught up in your passion to care about the hardness of the wood or the splinters that would be left on your back. As Pennywise licked up your discharge and wetness he began to let out small growls like a dog, pushing his tongue against your walls even harder and quicker, intensifying your pleasure. Your hands began to grip the holes of the mattress as the intensity of your pleasure and longing increased. A blossom of heat began to throb in your vagina, unrelentlessly begging for more. His slick tongue was pleasuring you out of your mind, but you needed more. You needed him inside of you, like all of those passionate nights that you had shared with him. Him dominating you, pounding into you, each others’ hot breath breathing into one another, his fangs inches above your face. 

He had begun to hum while you started moaning far too loud out in pleasure and desire, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. His purrs began to become louder, reminiscent of a cat finally getting attention from its owner after a long day. His licks started to become less persistent and pressured and he instead began to lick your folds more gently, almost carefully. Yet somehow, this gentleness, this light teasing, only intensified your torture, and your already throbbing vagina begged for more contact to ease the desire to be touched in every corner that his tongue had awakened in you.

Though you knew it would do no good, you weakly cried out, “P-Penny….please...inside of me…”

The only sign of response he gave was his purrs becoming louder, and his licking increasing only slightly faster. You then stopped and realized why he was enjoying himself down there so much; you were on your period. You out a sigh both for your own sanity as well as increased frustration, and gave into what little relief he was currently giving you, accepting that he was in control, that you didn’t have the strength or the dominance to get him to give you what you wanted; you simply had to accept him going at whatever pace he pleased. You were clutching the sides of the old mattress slightly less, though your whole body was still strained.

He was now licking more gently, more slowly, as if savoring every scrap of blood he found between your legs. You found yourself begin to ease slightly into the rhythm of the tingling of desire his long tongue left while it lapped against your folds. Then you gasped as pain shot through your thigh; you looked down at Pennywise sharply, and he returned your gaze innocently; he had bitten a small mark into your lower thigh.

“You know I can’t resist, little pet,” he smirked, then leaned his head back down to the mark and began to lap at the blood, letting out small moans of pleasure, as if he was eating a delicious meal. And, technically, he was. Once he had lapped up the flowing blood he gave it a heavy, long kiss, his large red lips engulfing them for a moment. He then kissed it again, his eyes closed, completely concentrated on showing tenderness even to the wounds he inflicted on you. He loved hurting you too much to resist; it was in his nature, and always would be. But only he could hurt you, no one else. And the hurt he did inflict often came with a form of aftercare. But not always.

“Your taste is so irresistible to me...You taste and smell so wonderfully...It is addicting,” he whispered, almost to himself. “It’s amazing that I can resist killing you, and-heueuohuhuaha-eating you!” He cackled between giggles, his voice vibrating against your inner thigh, then opened his eyes, coming out of his trance and lifting him his head from between your thighs, staring up at you. There was an anger there now-there was always a little anger that accompanied his desire and lust for you. That such a small, insignificant, weak, incredibly breakable and feeble human could have such influence over a manifestation of evil, ever changing, infinite, boundless, timeless, incomprehensible. It was comical, really. And a constant insult to to what he was, that something so earthly could affected him. But his warmth for you always won over any resistance he had towards his feelings of affection.

But right now, his anger controlled him the most.

“You silly, stupid girl,” he growled under his breath, his upbeat and cackling, carefree personality that he had taken on only a few moments ago showing not a trace of existence, his face scrunching up into a snarl, his expression menacing. “You came back to me? To seek what, a promise that I’ll cradle you in my arms and promise you a tender relationship? Help you buy fruitcakes for the family cookouts?” His fat lips twitched upwards slightly. “So naive, sweet thing. Sso naive. I am eternal. I am older than your universe, and universes older than yours. I am the consumer, the Eater of Worlds–” His voice had taken on a demonic form, and his words cut off as saliva began to form in his fangs and pour out of his mouth, pouring onto the floor.

“And you are but a stupid, foolish woman,” he finally managed to choke out from between his own increasing heavy lust as it filled him over, until deep beastly growls oozing out of drool and fangs was all that he could manage, his eyes now crazed and red.

His anger overtook him then, and he ripped off his clothing to expose his otherworldly, grotesque organ meant to be reminiscent of a manhood out, which actually was eternally slobbering multiple organs, all withering and tearing at one another, like the snakes of Medusa’s head, all of them far too large to even consider fitting inside of you without a significant amount of lubing up, yet someone he had always managed it, and you had always survived. You had been mercilessly fucked by these organs once before, and this time look like no exception. 

He let out one of his low, animalistic growls, and, without any warning, slammed two of the many withering purple snakes into you, far too big for your vagina. Though your entrence had already been remarkably wet from the foreplay he had already performed on you, it hardly made taking in his enormous length any easier. You let out a shriek of pain, filling up the whole of the empty Neibolt house. Your hands desperately clutched the dity warm mattress, begging for relief from the feeling of two of his large cocks inside of you. He let out a satisfied huff, his heavy labored breathing became quicker along with yours as he began to ride you, dominating you. The salivia from his withering cocks lubiracted the inside of you a bit, making it slightly easier to take him in, but with every hard push of his being it brought on a new wave of pain, causing you to cry out each time.

He began to go faster, and you were sure you were going to die of pain and utter exhaustion. His fingers were tense, wide spread and clutching your thighs. Just when you were sure you were blacking out, the waves of pain gradually began to transform into delicious waves of pleasure, the hard, unforgiving thrusts transforming instead into massive waves of physical euphoria. Your screams began to turn to moans, and between your pants and moans you were begging him in a broken voice for more, more, more.

Each brutal jerk of his was bringing your body closer to both exhaustion and climax, and all you could do was hold on hopelessly to the mattress, your body begging for mercy but panting too hard to say anything, him slamming into your heated entrance and sweat soaked limbs like a rag doll. His fingers were clutching the sides of your thighs, and his claws began to leech out of his skin as he himself came closer to climaxing, the nails beginning to draw blood from your sides, but all you felt from the experience was absolute pleasure, the burning sensation mixed in gloriously with the satisfying pleasure that he was giving you. Salvia continued to pour out of his lips, covering every inch of his fat bottom lip and running down his chin, dripping onto your already moisturized body, slick with sweat, pre-cum, and his drool. His pace became increasingly more harsh and unrelenting, a combination from both wanting you so desperately as well as his more primal instincts taking over his essence. You made eye contact with him, finally able to take his thrusts without leaning your head back, and gazed into his golden orbs once more, unable to look away; you were convinced he was capable of hypnotizing you with those eyes, leaving you unable to move or help yourself. The intensity of them both frightened you and fascinated you, and you knew you would never be able to resist them if they ever desired you, sought you out, which, at the present moment, they did.

Every time he entered you you became his captive, his own frightened little prey. But you were a willing prisoner in his grasp. You were at the mercy of his pleasure, his desires, when he was tired, when he was satisfied. There was no such thing as light sex when it came to Pennywise. You had come back to him, you had called for him, yearned for him, and now you were receiving what you sought. Your own pleasure was surely in the back of his mind somewhere, but it was an afterthought, an insignificant element.

He continuously rammed himself into you mercilessly, and though you were now enjoying the waves of pleasure, your bones were wailing out for rest, for relief. You began to feel as if you had been endlessly in this trance of being fucked by his huge lengths, your eyes becoming half-lidded and hazy, your sweat plastering your hair to your face. The smell and heat of your sex was encompassing the air of that house, musky, thick and hot. Had it been hours? You couldn’t tell. 

“Penny,” you choked between broken breaths. “P-please!”

He stopped riding you for a moment and leaned forward, his eyes turning more animalistic as he reached his orgasm. 

“Please what, little girl?” he chuckled into your ear with a deep, rough voice, demonic voice, lust lining his every word.

“Please let me cum, Penny!” You shrieked furiously. Your body was both shaking from exhaustion and lust; the only thing getting you through this was the shocking physical pleasure as well as the endorphins melting in your system of being with the one you loved after not seeing him for so long. He let out a cackle, and you had no idea whether this meant the clown would give into your demands or not. He was teasing you endlessly, letting the climax of your orgasm roll around on a cliff, tethering at the edge, almost reaching that state of absolute pleasure, but not quite.

And then, it happened.

Every muscle in your body began to tighten, your upper thighs quivering. Every ounce of your sexual being began to be sucked from your body, starting at the tips of your toes and your fingertips, working its way until it all collected into your vagina. A hot, tingly sensation began to overtake your body, making you feel as if you were being pulled from all sides. Your eyes began to roll to the back of your head as you felt the full climax of your orgasm arising, and your body began to feel numb, giving itself fully into the fire hot pleasure. You became light-headed, your vision going blurry, and a certain impression of lightness of your body started to overcome your consciousness. Your head was spinning, your body shaking uncontrollably. The cliff you were approaching was getting higher, higher, higher... It felt so good it almost hurt, you wanting more yet wanting it to stop at the same time. A giant flood of sensation exploded into your entire body, making you gasp open in utter flaming pleasure, almost unbearable satisfaction overflowing through your body fully, absolute and total. 

Pennywise growled furiously, his face becoming less and less human as his own orgasm began to overtake him. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, his mouth becoming larger and larger, rows and rows of countless teeth starting to form one after the other, the lights of his throat starting to peek out from his mouth. He started to let out enormous, deep growls, sounding more like a monster than any human or even earthly thing. He pushed yet harder into you, faster and faster, sweat pouring from both of your bodies. 

You couldn’t help it; though you feared him horribly during this stage of intercourse, you also desired him immensely. You just barely managed to reach you sweat slicked arms up to his neck, and pulled him down towards your face. The first of his many rows of teeth sank into your shoulder in response, and you let out moans of satisfaction, reeling both your neck and body backward. He began to suck up the blood at an astounding pace, sucking up more and more blood by the second, his growls overcoming your moans as well and filling up the entirety of the house. His mouth found your ear, and he bit down on the lobe of it, biting off a part of it. You gasped in pain, but the pain only aroused you more. He then let out a roar and lifted his blood soaked face, if it could even be considered that anymore, the majority of it being an enormous split of gums and teeth, and let out the loudest soul shattering howl you had ever heard in your life, leaving you shivering to the core even in the midst of the heat of your orgasm. You were in a state of half horror, half pleasure. It snatched away what little breath you have left, leaving you utterly breathless and empty, your body feeling painfully bone-tired, but feeling thoroughly, wholly, perfectly content and fulfilled at the same time.

The orgasm hit Pennywise hard, his eyes a clouded demonic shade, the drool and teeth spraying everywhere, the lights in his throat glowing furiously; you had never seen them this bright before. He finally exploded into you, his cum hot, sticky and warm. Heat flooded your already sweating body, and you found yourself breaking into an odd cold sweat, as if your body refused to accept any more heat. The amount of cum that came out of him never failed to astound you; it poured endlessly out of his two penieses, completely covering every inch of the mattress, oozing off of the sides and soaking even the wooden floors, some of it trailing to the entrance of the door, flooding practically the entire floor of the room, only a few corners being left untouched. It filled you up, overflowing you, and you were convinced you would explode from how much it was filling you. You felt his entire being shudder, and the largeness of his penis shook your entire body as well. Your arms, which had previously been clinging onto him since he had come down to bite your neck, fell limp to your sides instantly as you felt his body finally begin to become still, his head and shoulder collapsing on your body and parts, his left cheek pressed on your stomach, drool leaking out of his teeth ceaselessly, his eyes shuddering for a few moments until they closed.

You then went completely limp like a rag doll, releasing even the slightest tension you had been keeping in your body, downright unable to move, think, or speak. You were entirely and utterly spent, and you found yourself zoning out at the ceiling, thinking and feeling nothing. Somewhere in the back of your head you knew Pennywise was humoring you; he could go for an infinite number of more rounds, you were sure. He had done it many times before, using your body to push your weak and feeble body through every orgasm, until you had lost count, almost blacking out at times, astounded at how you managed to make it through so many at once.

But tonight, the monsters’ thoughts were elsewhere.

He slowly raised his gaze up to look at you, then smirked when he saw that you were still zoning out at the wall, every ounce of you spent. A ever so slight purr began to resonate in his throat, and he leaned forward and began brushing his nose against your face, nuzzling you back into consciousness.

“You’re mine, do you understand?” he murmured as he lightly brushed his nose around your face, trailing down to your forehead, then your eyebrows, crossing over to your cheekbones, then your chin, and then, finally, to your nose, which he nuzzled for a few seconds, the smallest of hairs from your skin prickling at his touch. “You will never leave me again, little pet.” He pecked your lips. “Ever.” Another one. “Again.”

Though he would never admit it, for the first time in his existence he had experienced true terror. Terror that you would never come back to him. Terror that he had truly lost you this time. Terror that he had lost the one earthly being that he had learned to truly love, or at least in the best way he knew how to love in his nature. In all the centuries he had wandered the earth, through all the creatures he had ever encountered, loathing them all, or being indifferent, simply seeing the given species as a tasty meal, he learned to either feel hatred for other beings or no feelings at all. Humans he hate the most, with their reeking stench of consciousness, creatures that were of a similar intellect as him, yet the chose to simply live our their lives as pathetic withering pieces of meat, their naturally positive emotions stinking up the earth, reeling his entity in a state of constant loathing, enduring their everlasting stench. Yet the love he developed for you raged in him, almost like a fire, warm and yet toxic all at once, and he hated it and wanted to be rid of it, yet was enchanted by it at the same time, amazed that you, of all creatures he had ever encountered throughout the centuries, would be the one who left a lasting impression on him.

“My precious little girl,” he cooed in a rough, buffy voice, overflowing with lust as he continued to trace his features over yours, the power of his voice vibrating against your face. “My precious, small, fragile doll. My little human.”

He leaned up and caressed your torso, feeling every inch of your skin. You tried to lift yourself up, but found your body too weak with lust, anticipation, desire, and, yes, fear. You suspected you would always fear Pennywise to a degree; fear and knowing him seemed to be a one packaged deal. Couldn’t have one without the other. Though you loved him, you didn’t understand him, and it was that uncertainty that would always lead you that all too familiar feeling of consistent anticipation and fear, never knowing what he would do next. 

He leaned forward and pressed his plump lips against the vein of your neck, your pulse thumping against his lips. You felt him smile against your skin, amused by how nervous you were. He pressed his lips firmly against your vein one more time before pulling back and then licking your neck, feeling the blood pump in your veins, making him only more hot, his blood boiling with lust, desiring you more. He quickly started to lick you harder, then began to pepper your neck in kisses from your collarbone up, licks turning to slobbery kisses, kissing every inch of it until he reached the shoulder, nipping the shoulder with his teeth, giving you a sharp but pleasurable pain, then began to kiss back up your neck, not missing an inch, until he came to your jaw and began nibbling and kissing along there. He then reached your earlobe, with the new tear on it, one that would forever mark you as his, and began nibbling on that, just hard enough to leave tease the pain out a little bit more, leaving small bruises on your skin. You were weak in the knees; your eyes rolled back in pleasure and contentment just at the feel of his touch.

He then pressed his forehead against yours, his labored breath hot against yours, his buck teeth spilling out of his lips ever so slightly. His eyes were almost cross eyed with lust, and he stared into you, as if trying to absorb every part of your soul so he could memorize and keep it forever. 

He closed his eyes and shuddered when you began to trail your lips along his face, just barely touching him, lips ever so lightly touching. The sensation of your lips lightly tracing his features made him shiver, and he froze in his state, transfixed and mesmerized by you and what you did to him. You first traced your lips up and down his nose, then softly pressed your lips against the red tip of it, sucking slightly. You then began to trace your lips up to his forehead, leaving a small kiss here and there whenever you felt compelled to. You moved to his cheek bones, brushing them ever so slightly, then to his earlobe, chewing on the tips with your teeth. Pennywise's’ breathing hitched slightly, but his eyes remained closed, and he remained in his meditative state. You then trailed your lips down to his jawline, leaving small whispers of kisses as your lips moved along his pale, cracked skin, and began to press your lips on the bone there as well. You knew you had Pennywise under your control right now; though he was the dominant, it was increasingly becoming easier to find his soft and weak spots for you, to find some sense of control in your own way.

Your vagina was astoundingly wet, the brown colored stained mattress soaked underneath the area that lay under you. You were both in a trance, lost in each others’ presence, completely forgetting that you existed as two separate beings.

Then, unknown to you, Pennywise let out the smallest of smiles, and waited as a snake began to crawl its way through your thighs. Your eyes shot open in surprise and disgust as you let out a shriek.

“Penny!” You yelled. “What the fuck?” 

You abruptly tried to stand up to get away from the slithering thing, currently wrapping itself around your arm despite your efforts to shoo it off. You stood, wincing as every bone ached in protest, increasingly becoming more annoyed and panicked the more it began to wrap itself around your arm. 

“Get it off!” You said between whimpers. “Penny-seriously-”

Pennywise grabbed both your arms and forced you down, then threw you around so that you were chest first on the mattress, your naked bum facing upward towards him. You forgot all about the snake, which you no longer felt crawling around your arm, the pressure releasing.

He deep, croaky gruff laugh rumbled in his throat, and you felt the backside of you becoming soaked in slobber as a consistent stream of drool trailed down his lips, spilling onto your ass and then onto the floor. You could sense his radiating lust even from here, could feel how much he desired you.

He put his wide hands on your bum and leaned forward, pressing his nose against the bump of your neck bones, breathing heavily in lust. He then began to gently peck each one, indulging in his warped fascination with the fragility of your human anatomy. Though he hated humans beyond comprehension, he would never deny that he felt a sick, twisted interest with how delicate and simple they were, but particularly to your own form. He caressed his wide, glove tight hands around your area, soothingly stroking each cheek,, then lunged one hand forward into your crack, and you let out a gasp of surprise and slight discomfort as his longer slender fingers felt their way through there. He let out yet another cracked, insane giggle, and continued exploring the insides of you. When he was done, he lifted his fingers out of your crack and began pecking the softness of you bum with his lips, seemingly leaving no inch untouched by his lips. You let out a moan, not denying that this was a surprisingly therapedic form of aftercare, especially for your aching, bruised and sore body.

He then lifted your form up, placing one hand on each side of your torso, pulling all your weight up with his two arms. You helped yourself a bit by lifting yourself up from your knees, assuming that you both were getting up, but he quickly made sure that wasn’t the case, quickly pouting when you tried to balance yourself on two feet. You sighed, then sat back down, easing into his embrace.

He drew you into his arms, pressing you firmly against his chest. One of the red pom poms was buried into your face, and you reflected on the softness of it and how it tickled your face. Pennywises’ breathing was still heavy and labored as his breath lapped against your hair, his chin resting on the top of your head, while one of his large hands stroked you.

“You humans are so easy to break,” he rumbled. “So, so fragile. I could kill you, little pet, I could break every limb in your body.” You looked up at him, curious. He lifted his index finger under you chin, looking into your eyes. “I could kill you, yes, yet here you are, and all I want to do is kiss the life out of you.” He pressed his lips firmly against yours for a long moment, so long that you almost felt yourself forgetting where you were, then he released them quietly.

Taking in his form and feeling the strength of his body engulfing yours, you were reminded again of just how easily he could end you, the truth of his words ringing in your ears. Not just kill you, but how easy of him it would be for him to make you one of his empty floating vessels in the sewers, eyes grey and empty. But you both know, though it was never spoken aloud, that that would never happen. Because, somewhere, in the time he had spent of dominating you in bed, to the harsh vicious bites that he injected on you when provoked, to the quieter nights of breathing in each other’s company in each others’ arms, to the long, empty afternoons when he found himself wretching in torment when you were too busy to see him, to the nights when you entered his inhuman dreams full of tortured spirits and screaming souls, he had learned to appreciate you. No, not appreciate. He had learned to love you, somehow, in his twisted and incomprehensible mind. And perhaps he himself didn’t even know the feeling, or recognize it. But it was there, stronger and more dominate in his character than any feeling he had ever felt towards another being. It confused him, angered him, frustrated him, but most of all, it terrified him, what his state would be like if he ever lost you, if he could ever return to what he once was, full and content in his malicious essence as if he had never known you, glutted and content in his own miserable being.

A purr began to rumble in his throat as he began to lazily kiss your face, find your fragility only increasing his desire to preserve the preciousness of you, droll being smeared into your face. You let out a sigh of contentment and ecstasy, relishing fully in your exhausted but satisfied state, your thighs aching. 

After a moment he buried his face in your neck, something he had grown accustomed to doing here and there during the quieter moments of your time together. His hot breath warmed the crevice of your neck, and you could hear the small wheezes that naturally came along with his breath, reminding you that simply breathing in a physical form was a struggle for him, a sound that strangely comforted you now that you had gotten used to it. You sat with your head resting on the top of his head, Penny involuntarily stroking your back in small gentle circles. 

You then bit your lip as a thought came to you, remembering the lights you has seen in your intercourse, and you let out a slight sigh to release tension in your body as you gained the courage to ask him.

"Show me."

He ceased all signs of affection as his body stiffened, much like the way it had when you told him your friend had died. A low growl formed in his throat. You knew you were pushing something that had been straining your relationship for as long as you could remember; your desire to see the Deadlights. You couldn’t help it, the curiosity was too strong, and the more you cared for and loved Penny, the more you felt the need to have a least a glimpse into the complexity of what he was. Into his power. 

"Penny," you gazed up at him and, when he refused to look at you, you cupped his face with your hands, making him face you. "Penny, please. I want you to show me."

“You know I can't do that, human," he spat out the word like it was poison. You resisted against the temptation to roll your eyes, this fury being a common response to any request you asked of him.

Earth woman. That was his other name for you whenever you were “misbehaving”, pushing something that you knew you shouldn’t, though you had actually grown a strange fondness for the nickname, finding it almost endearing. 

The dynamics in your relationship were endlessly testing both of you. If love was a dance, then your love with Pennywise was full of roots and tripping over one another's footsteps, clumsy, ungrateful, difficult, and far too often dangerous.

But fuck, how beautiful it was. It was through the act of trying so hard to be together despite the impossible odds that said over and over how much you really meant to one another, how much you needed one another. And that's what it was, wasn't it? 

He didn't love you-he needed you. The intertwining of your souls had brought something out of both of you that you couldn’t quite place-some need, some desire that had previously been unfulfilled. And neither of you wanted to be without it.

The thought of endangering you to what he was capable of disgusted him. It also petrified him. He had taken countless victims over centuries and centuries of encounters, reducing them simply to crazed, miserable creatures. It had always been so easy, but with you it horrified him. The thought of rendering you insane like his other victims made his mouth go dry, his eyes wet, his insides feel empty and useless, feeling his whole inside turn inside out, leaving nothing but a shell of what he was, no longer having the will to do anything, not even the most basic animalistic function to eat, sleep, or live, not even to leave this materialistic world and to venture into endless time and space, but simply to stop existing all together, to return to something more drastic than just oblivion. To….die? The concept was alien to the clown, and that was where his thought process ended. But that was also where his fear manifested, and that was where he felt the burning desire to quench it most.

The truth was, the monster had never known or felt true, bone-chilling terror until he had learned how to love you.

Now it was one of the only things he felt. It was a feeling that tasted so irresistibly delicious on everyone else, but experiencing it himself was something he harshly loathed. He felt humiliated by it, and yet it engulfed every part of his character. It turned the powerful, undefeated being that he was into a weak and feeble spirit, much like the frail humans that he ate and loathed so much. He hated it, but he couldn’t live without it, for to live without this fear would mean to live without you. He was set in a balance between loathing and an indescribable, irresistible lust and desire. It drove the creature mad. And he took it out on you in the best way he could in his muddled, confused head. He would go a week in which he would tell you to stay away, growling and advancing on you if you even dared to try to reach him in the sewers or in the Neibolt house. When he wasn’t acting distant, he would fuck you harshly against the wall, growling at you to tell him that you were always his, even when you tried to tell him you weren’t going anywhere, and through painful tears you would ask him why he was acting like this. No matter how much you tried to calm him on nights like those, he would only become more possessive, marking your skin with his teeth more than usual, until you were tired, worn, battered, and thoroughly marked from every inch from your cheek to the tops of your feet. You would be afraid of him more than usual during these times, trying to distance yourself. Sometimes he would even let you. But by the the next week or even after just one or two days, he would show up in your room late at night, unannounced, standing over your bed, an unreadable expression in his golden glowing eyes, and then he would embrace you in his arms, softly kissing you on every inch of your face. You would tell him to leave, but he would only whimper and let out small growls until you allowed him to stay.

It was perplexing for the monster, loving you. He was an ancient entity, beyond the comprehension of any human, completely and utterly in control of everything he ever wanted. He had never had to worry about making a sacrifice, worry about being emotionally tormented over anything, for if anything bothered him, he killed it.

But you.

His desire for you was to have you. He didn’t want to kill you, and, as good and as irresistibly delicious as you tasted, he didn’t want to, either. No, he wanted you. Alive, heart beating, in his arms, fully alive, heart beating. His.

There was a deep set maddening rage that came along with this, so strong that even you felt it. He hated this love, he hated himself, and he hated that he didn’t hate you.

Tears began to fill up your eyes, and you bit your lip slightly, relieving the stress and pain of rejection you felt from your lover. Pennywise caressed his long fingers across your cheekbones, catching every tear, wiping them along his own lips, savoring the exquisite feel of your scent and salt on his own, mixed in with your vaginal discharge. He absolutely adored the taste of you, and wiped your tears just as much for himself as for you. 

He leaned forward and began to lick your face with his long tongue, and you couldn’t help but giggle, temporarily forgetting your request to see the Deadlights. You hardly managed to recompose yourself, and Pennywise sat in front of you, crouched like a child only a few inches from your face, an indecipherable and slightly disturbing smile on his face at seeing you giggle.

“Penny,” you gasped, still recovering from your laugher. “I’m serious. I want to see them.”

Penny’s smile faded, and he instead looked at you with a confused look.

“I already said you can’t. Why won’t you obey me?” He growled slightly.

“Because I want to….understand you,” you said, softly, almost to yourself, almost as if you were convincing yourself that you wanted to fully understand this ambiguous being in front of you, the one you loved but didn’t understand. “I want to know you,” you murmured more softly, reaching out your hand to up the right side of his face. He leaned slightly into your touch, but his stern expression remained the same.

“Pet….I do not think you realize what you’re asking,” he mumbled into your palm, turning his face slightly to peck the inside of your hand. “I want you to keep returning to me.”

“And I will.”

There was no response from the clown, just his heated breath reflecting onto your palm. His eyes seemed to be staring into you, his face a crunched up glare.

He didn’t want you to realize just how dangerous he really was. There was things about him that he knew you thought you could handle, but the monster knew better. The insane souls he captured all trapped within him, his eternal slaves, their flesh burning and screaming for mercy, their eyes burned to their sockets. Worse than hell itself. You didn’t know the depth of horror that of never ending blackness that was locked within him, his essence not locked to any physical intelligible form, something so horrid and dangerous that even a glimpse of it would render a human utterly insane for the rest of their days.

And he didn’t want his precious little play toy to be one of those screaming forms. At least, not yet. Not until he knew how to deal with you and these...feelings he had for you. How he could dispose of you without destroying himself. For the present moment, no answer was going to come any time soon.

The clown reached for your lips, busted and bruised from the pressure induced by the passion that has been shared earlier, and wiped, almost caressed, some leftover saliva that had remained from the action before with his thumb. He started at them for a moment, considering them. He then unexpectedly and forcefully smashed his lips against yours once again, an impulsive and destructive decision, as if he was savoring every last bit of the one thing that gave him comfort, a sense of you.The two of your front teeth touched one another accidently as your lips parted, causing an awkward physical tension, making the clown cackle.

“Heueueue…..little pet, It’s time for you to go.”

He pulled himself off of you, and you whimpered in protest, the wind from the open window in the room making you realize how cold it really was in the abandoned house without the clown’s large form around you, and you curled into yourself shivering, the chill finally making it self known to you. 

“Penny…” you stared, then drifted off, not sure what you wanted to say. You could sense that the end was near; that Pennywise would leave you soon, this time for good. The thought made your heart drop to your stomach, the thought of living without him being too much to bear. 

“Can’t you stay, just a little longer?”

The clown stood up to his full height, towering over you. You suddenly felt like a frightened child next to him, nothing like the lust ridden, heated and moaning woman you had been only a few moments before, almost an equal.

Pennywise growled, not liking the scent he was getting off of you; abandonment, which tasted bittersweet to him, especially in this circumstance.

“Go home,” he finally mumbled in response, and, before you could respond, he vanished, his tall figure there one second, the next gone.

You sat on the mattress for a few moments more, feeling cold and deserted, taking in the chill of that house, studying the old, worn wood, the ragged holes that had been punched into them. After some time passed you forced yourself up, your legs numb with exhaustion from the sex, your whole body still shaking. 

There were times when you knew Pennywise didn’t truly “leave” you. Yes, he was not longer with you in the physical sense, but you could sense his presence everywhere; like an omniscient chill, you felt his touch, his hot breath, his scent all around you. You felt the tap of his finger tips against your spine, his teeth teasing your neck, his labored breathing tickling your ears. Every step down the staircase felt like walking with a massive weight tied to your ankle, his presence muddling you down like a prisoner. Whispers echoed in your ears, only growing increasingly louder as you made your way out of the house.

You finally made yourself step out of the Neibolt house, trying your best to ignore the incredibly dark and powerful presence that you could feel not only watching you leave, but tugging on you as well, pulling your clothes ever so slightly, ghostly fingers wrapping themselves around your arms, caressing your hair, whispers of a pressure on your lips.

And then, as you made your way out of the gate of the house, the pressure and the sensations ceased, leaving you with no signs left that this afternoon had happened at all except for the aching in your thighs, the cuts and bruises on your skin, the exhaustion of your body. You put your back to the house and began to walk away, with the slightest of whispers caught in the chill afternoon breeze, so quiet that you almost convinced yourself you could have imagined it.

“Wait for me.”

***

Pennywise walked through the murky water of the sewers, the already dirty bottoms of his clown suit becoming more soaked by the second of the treacherous waters, full of bones, blood, rotting skin, teeth and nails, amongst other filth that had gathered over the generations. The drool and cum from your earlier interaction was still dripping from his fangs and onto the filthy sewer water. His trudged through the rotten, slimy skin and remains of his old victims inattentively, his mind wandering, his hunger increasing. 

Snarling, he decided he needed a fresh meal for the night, sick of the decomposed meat he had been consuming for the past few nights, usually too weak to bother trying to hunt for fresh meat. But tonight he could feel his strength returning a bit, an echo of the power he used to have within him when he wasn’t deprived of the rest he needed, the thirst to return to oblivion. Most likely due to being intertwined with you again, though he himself didn’t make this connection. 

He made his way of the the sewers, and quickly found the nearest sidewalk, then alleyway, waiting silently for the next unassuming victim to pass by. It was a quiet night, and not many scents or warm bodies were out; he could tell by the stale scent and lack of emotions that rung through the air. Nonetheless he crouched in the shadows, waiting patiently for his next meal.

His “next meal” ended up being a woman in a fur coat and a pink feathered hat, none of which he took note of; he simply lunged forward and dug his many large and pointy fangs into her throat before she could even react; the closest thing the woman’s face showed to a reaction was the widening of her pupils before they clouded over eternally. Pennywise immediately took her limp form into the shadows with him and carried her body into the sewers, where he could feast in peace.

He salivated, his rows of fangs beginning to form one after another, the more animalistic side of him overtaking his consciousness until he could think of nothing but the sweaty, oily, delicious human skin and blood he was about to devour. Normally he would torment his food a bit first, to get that extra delicious taste of fear, but tonight he simply needed to regain what little strength he had left in this form.

As he reached his head down to tackle the mangled form, he saw in his golden, unfocused eyes the face of the woman; one would have considered her beautiful, and though Pennywise had no concept of beauty, nor cared for it even if he did, he found himself lusting for the earth woman, and as he studied closer he began to realize that she held similar features to yours; her face melted into yours, her smile becoming your smile, her nose taking the shape of yours, her whole entire being suddenly melting into you like a candle, the original appearance of the woman falling away until it was only you, until the clown lost all desire to eat the woman, his meal being ruined at the hallucination.

Utterly famished but too disorientated to try to eat consume his meal anymore, the monster let out a bone-chilling howl, echoing for miles, the core of his essence finally becoming familiar with the one emotion that accompanied his love the strongest, the emotions muddling his mind beyond what he could control, one that was weakening him more as time went on, more and more as he struggled to leave you, more as he resisted the sleep that he needed so desperately.

Despair.


End file.
